LuLlabies of Boys
by Li'l Yahiko
Summary: Spinoff of The KiLling Game. 14-year-old L gets wrapped up in a case involving a young girl from his past, and it could very well cost him his career, or possibly his life.
1. Girl

LuLlabies of Boys

(Disclaimer: Death Note and all related properties belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.)

One: Girl

September 12th, 1993. Autumn had blown in, bringing a chill in the air and a change to the scenery. The leaves had changed to quite beautiful colors in the yard at Wammy House, but currently it was night time and storming rather severely, hiding its splendor.

Quillsh was sitting at his desk, his office warm with light and all around cozy. He even had a fire going. He heard a rummaging from the library next to the office, and a moment later, a gawky thing appeared from the doorway, carrying a copy of _War and Peace_.

"Good evening, Watari," Lawliet greeted in his seemingly constantly deepening voice. The boy, now fourteen, had grown into a tall stick of a boy. He'd exchanged his too-big clothes from his childhood for slightly better fitting ones, including a white top with three-quarter sleeves and baggy jeans that didn't require being rolled up. He still seldom wore shoes, though he did have quite a few pairs now, stacked side by side in his closet according to color and use, just like the rest of his clothes. The boy was pale still, seemingly paler by the dark eyes and dark hair, but there was something surprisingly handsome about him. Maybe Wammy was biased, but he did see something striking about the hunched adolescent. Perhaps it was just the fact that no one else looked like him. He was like a rare piece of art.

"Find what you were looking for in there?"

Lawliet shrugged, holding up the book. "Tolstoy," He shrugged, referring to the author. "I've already read it English, but I'm delighted to see you found it in its original Russian and French."

"Consider it an early birthday present," Wammy replied, getting up from his seat. "You're welcome."

Lawliet smiled at him, but only for a moment, since his nose was already in the book. The boy generally wasn't a fan of fiction, but he did enjoy it occasionally, and _War and Peace_ was his favorite, probably because it was realistic. Wammy himself had never been a big fan of Tolstoy.

"It's been quiet, has it not?" Lawliet asked, taking a seat in the armchair over by the fire, holding the book with his thumbs and index fingers. He never took his eyes off the pages. "I don't believe that Daneuve, Eraldo Coil, or L has had a crime to solve in weeks. I'm growing rather bored."

"You were saying that two months ago when you were packed down with cases," Wammy replied with a smirk, retrieving a tray containing some freshly poured coffee from the kitchen on the other side of his office (as requested, since L would have had it no other way). He made sure to place a bowl full of sugar cubes and a piece of strawberry cake on the tray as well.

"That is because you accepted cases I didn't care about," Lawliet replied jadedly and not without the slight bit of irritation. "I want cases that are interesting and challenging. Cases that I can get involved in. These run of the mill cases are ridiculous. The money is good, but I don't care about that."

"Well, I'll let you choose them from now on."

Lawliet nodded, dropping a rather ridiculous amount of sugar cubes into his coffee. "If you say so," Lawliet replied, though Wammy knew that Lawliet had been taking on a couple of cases without his partner's consent for months now. He figured he'd let Lawliet just continue to assume it was a secret (though he probably already knew he knew. The boy was ridiculously perceptive).

Quillsh opened his newspaper, reading while sipping at his drink, trying to ignore the horrid sound of Lawliet's slurping (the coffee was so thick with that sugar), when an article caught his attention. "Huh, it appears the young Mr. Altair was killed last week."

"Is this supposed to be of some concern to me?" Lawliet asked dully. "Murders happen all the time. There isn't always a mystery to it."

Quillsh shrugged, not too pleased at the mouth on the young boy. He had gotten far too snippy. It must have been the hormones. Well, what he had to say next, he knew that ought to put those hormones in their place. "If it's the same Mr. Altair, I do believe he would be Cosette's older brother. I believe the family that adopted her was Altair."

Lawliet's eyes were ripped from the page, something that never happened.

Quillsh gave a slight glance in the direction of the boy but remained nonchalant. He'd baited the hook, and the fish had seen it. All he had to do was wait for the bite.

After a moment…

"You are… referring to Miss Cosette from the orphanage seven years ago?"

Hook, line, sinker.

"Why, yes," Quillsh replied, lowering the paper with a grin. "How surprising that you even remember such a thing!" It wasn't surprising at all.

Lawliet's eyes were as wide as saucers. The boy actually could express shock, go figure.

Quillsh finally looked at Lawliet. "Why does it matter?"

The boy looked even more surprised that Wammy had asked. "But… of course it…" He finally realized that his emotion had gotten the better of him and calmed himself appropriately. "Never mind."

The boy looked so disappointed that Wammy decided to throw him a bone. "I suppose I should drive over there and offer my condolences tomorrow. You may come if you like."

"Y… yes, I suppose I might as well…" Lawliet mumbled, hiding behind his book once again. "You're always telling me to get out of the house anyways."

"Yes."

-

The next afternoon, Wammy and Lawliet crawled into the car and made the drive across town to Cosette's home.

The Altair family was very well-known (and prestigious at that). Mr. Altair was the successor of a large business run by his family for centuries and was its current proprietor. With the power came the money, and so came the exquisite things. His son had been known to be quite a partier and a bit of a troublemaker, so when he wound up dead, it wasn't that surprising. His mother had still locked herself in her room out of misery nonetheless.

All of this was known before they'd left that morning. The paper had stated everything. Lawliet mentioned that he'd researched it a bit himself and found that some of Mr. Altair's deals may not have been as clean as they seemed. He suspected some sort of shady business had been going down.

The house itself was practically a castle with stone walls and a black iron-barred gate with roses snaking their way around them from the well kept bushes behind it. Quillsh was somewhat impressed, but Lawliet didn't seem to care in the slightest. Why would he? He didn't much care about whether he had the finer things in life or not, as long as he had something to stimulate him.

After talking through the com system at the gate, the two of them were let inside.

"I appreciate you taking the time to come out," Mr. Altair, a dark-haired, handsome older man said, shaking Quillsh's hand with both of his. "You've been very kind to keep in touch with us over the years, to check in on Cosette."

Lawliet turned sharply, looking offended that he hadn't been told of such a thing, as if it was any of his business. His mind soon carried him off to other things though, and he turned away, no longer caring.

"I want to make sure that everyone is taken care of," Quillsh replied. "I'm so sorry to hear about your son."

"It is a shame and tragedy," Altair replied, and his blue-gray eyes were brimming with tears.

The front door clicked shut behind the three of them. "I'm home."

Altair, Wammy, and Lawliet all turned at the sound of the voice. There before them in the doorway was a young woman, dressed in school uniform. By her red curls and sharp blue eyes, they knew who she was immediately.

"Wh…" She started, meeting eyes with Quillsh and then Lawliet.

"Cosette, darling," Altair said, "I don't know if you remember, but this is Mr. Quillsh Wammy from the orphanage. He heard about George and came by to give his condolences."

"Oh…" She replied, expression unreadable. "Well… thank you for your kindness during this difficult time."

Lawliet was counting her freckles, Quillsh just knew it.

"Do come and have some tea with me, Mr. Wammy. I know it took you a long time to drive here. Ah, young man, would you like to--"

"Don't mind him," Quillsh replied, following after the man. A moment later, they had rounded the corner and were gone.

Lawliet's eyes had followed them out of the room, but now that they had left, they returned to the girl in the doorway. Her loafers, her socks, her plaid skirt, her blouse, her tie, her lips, her freckles, her bangs…

"Lawliet," She said, her voice stern, still unreadable.

A slight smile crept onto his pale lips. "You remember me."

"You're pretty recognizable," She said, passing him while removing her bag from her shoulder.

He wasn't sure if she was complimenting or insulting him, so he said nothing, following along behind her. She didn't necessarily seem pleased that he was trailing after her, but she didn't tell him to stop.

Up the stairs and down the hall was her room. It was surprisingly practical, considering the Altair family was so blessed with money. There were pictures in frames on her desk and white lace curtains that matched the bedspread and a tall bookshelf packed with encyclopedias and old classics. On her dresser, there was a vial of fancy perfume, along with a red bag of what looked to be makeup. The closet door was open very slightly, showing a vast amount of modest clothes on hangers.

"So, why did you come along with Mr. Wammy? Are you still his little pet, Lawliet?" She asked, removing the ribbon from her hair, sending scarlet curls tumbling around her shoulders.

"I suppose you could say that," Lawliet replied with a shrug. "I heard about your brother."

"It is a shame," Cosette said, though she didn't sound all that upset, "but it's his own fault for hanging around with the wrong crowd. I can just about guarantee that it was one of his little friends."

"Mm," Lawliet replied, staring at a painted portrait on the wall of her when she was (estimated) eight years old. "I understand your feelings. It must be hard to be around all of this grief when a part of you had expected it and grown used to the idea."

"I… suppose," She said, eyeing him. "So… you haven't changed much, have you?"

"I guess not," Lawliet shrugged, turning his coal black eyes back to her, "but it has only been seven short years."

"Well, I'm not that same little girl you knew," She said, almost defensively, blue eyes alight.

"I never said that you were."

She pulled her gaze away, walking to the window and peeking out. "I don't know why you and Mr. Wammy would care at all about George. Neither of you met him, and neither of you have spoken to me since I was a child."

"Well, honestly I was no more than curious to see you. You were the only other person my age that I ever really talked to."

"I only spoke to you because you were the only one who could speak to me," She replied cruelly, though he wasn't offended in the slightest.

"It's good to see you speak English perfectly well now."

"I do indeed."

She shifted from one foot to the other, looking as though she was glowing with the sunlight pouring into the window. He could tell that he was making her feel awkward, though the feeling was something he'd grown used to when talking with anyone.

After a moment, she exhaled a breath that she had been apparently holding. "So, you came to see me, did you?" She looked back at him, expression now readable. She was displeased.

Lawliet's finger lingered on his lip, though he didn't stick it in his mouth. "Yes."

She cocked an eyebrow, but the rest of her was completely still. "So, is this what you expected to see? Are you happy now?"

He didn't reply, looking as though he was thinking about it.

Her face dropped from accusation to frustration. "I don't know why you got it in your head that we're friends or something like that. We're not."

"No, I suppose not," Lawliet muttered, turning his vision towards the floor where he twiddled his toes. "I'd say you were rather afraid of me and obviously not fond of me."

"If you were aware of that, then why did you come here?" She asked, dropping her hands to her side.

"Because I wanted to," Lawliet replied simply.

She rolled her eyes. "That figures."

-

Cosette shooed him away, and he spent about an hour wandering the house, coming back long enough to eventually be shooed away again once or twice while she was working on her homework. Even when he offered to assist her, he was sent away. Now he found himself in a large den staring at a picture hanging above the fireplace. A painted portrait (obviously recent) of Cosette and her family. Mr. Altair looked much different with a smile on his face, and Mrs. Altair was quite lovely herself, except for a rather long nose. George, who looked to be only a year or two older than Cosette was extremely handsome with slicked black hair and pretty, only slightly yellowed teeth. All three of them with dull, blue-gray eyes… and then there was Cosette, a rose among lilies. She was so obviously not one of them with her dramatically red hair and striking ice-blue eyes. The artist had misplaced a freckle or two, but it was nearly perfect.

"Do you like it?"

The voice made him jump. He'd gotten lost in the portrait and dropped his guard, a mistake he didn't intend to make again. "Ah, yes…" He said, turning.

It was Mr. Altair, looking a bit more composed than he had earlier. "We have a portrait painted every year to hang over our fireplace. This was painted just three weeks ago."

"It's very nice," Lawliet replied, though he didn't have much of a passion for artwork (unless autopsy photos counted, and they probably didn't).

"I didn't catch your name, young man."

"Ah… It's Christopher," He replied without missing a beat. He knew that Quillsh had been careful not to mention Lawliet's name (as they had both learned to do rather quickly in the crime solving business). "I'm Mr. Wammy's nephew."

"Oh, I see," Mr. Altair said, eyeing him for a moment. Lawliet felt his eyes tracing his facial features for resemblance patterns.

"-on his wife's side," He added quickly.

The man nodded, believing him. Sometimes, humans were so easy to lie to.

"Mr. Wammy has been looking for you for, Mr. Christopher," Mr. Altair said.

"Oh, I suppose I should be on my way then," Lawliet nodded, starting towards the door. Altair stopped him by grabbing his wrist, and Lawliet tensed, but he found the man only wishing to shake his hand.

"Thank you for taking the time to come out," Altair said. "It's nice to know that there are people who care about our situation who aren't just out for the money they can get from a photo. Please, you and Mr. Wammy, come back anytime you wish. You are welcome here."

Lawliet felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't care what happened to their family at all. He had only wished to see her, and despite her remarkable beauty, it wasn't anything he hadn't expected.

"Yes, of course," He lied. "These tragedies do take their toll, and I know I would like a soft place to fall."

"You're very intelligent for your age," He smiled.

"I know."

He released the man's hand and sauntered away, wiping his hand on his jeans.


	2. Bias

Two: Bias

The drive back home to Wammy House was quiet… well, most of the way.

"Lawliet, how was-" Quillsh began when Lawliet interrupted, as if he had been waiting for him to speak just so that he could interrupt.

"I've decided to take on the case of George Altair's murder," He told him, fingers gripping more tightly to his knees.

"Oh, really now?" Quillsh asked. "It doesn't seem like a case you'd bother with. As far as the police are concerned, it's just about open and shut. They've got all of his friends and enemies in custody and are questioning them."

"Things aren't always what they seem, and besides… this… this is personal."

"Oh, is it?"

"Yes… Miss Cosette… well, we are not friends but…" He paused, mulling over his words. "She has suffered much tragedy in her life, and I do not wish to leave her in the belief that life is so unfortunate. I'd rather her believe this as a lie than become disenchanted. Mr. Altair also cared much about his son, and his kindness towards me despite my… awkwardness… deserves to be rewarded somehow. It isn't a big deal. If it's as simple as I think it is, then it'll just give me something to do in my spare time."

"It'll also give you a reason to go see Miss Cosette again."

"I do not think she is very fond of me. It isn't surprising. Most people aren't," He replied, though he didn't sound too downtrodden. In his years of being Lawliet's assistant/partner, Wammy had discovered this to be fact. Lawliet was… strange (and that was understatement), and he often rubbed people the wrong way.

"So," Wammy said, "does that mean you don't want to see her anymore?"

"Au contraire," Lawliet said, voice flat. "I wouldn't mind seeing her again at all."

Wammy sighed. _Teenagers_, he thought.

-

Morning came, and Wammy found that Lawliet had up and left the orphanage without so much as a goodbye. His young apprentice, A, and the backup apprentice known as B were the only ones in his office. It appeared they had tried to sneak in to see the magnificent L (at least somebody thought he was cool), only to find he was gone. "I told you he wouldn't be here," B said.

"Well, yes, logically, it was unlikely," A replied, pouting slightly, "but you're the one always telling me to take risks if I want to be like L, B."

"Yeah, well, you're Mr. First-in-Line!" B spat unhappily. "I shouldn't have to tell you anything."

It was hard to believe they were only nine-years-old.

"Boys, please leave this office," Wammy instructed calmly. "Your lessons will be beginning soon."

"Yes, Mr. Wammy," They said, disappointed that they had been caught. They of course had no idea that Wammy was L's assistant, Watari, or if they did, they had yet to claim they had deduced this fact. Wammy saw a lot of potential in young A, if not a bit of weakness when it came to making a decision. B, however… there was something that just wasn't right about that boy. The air was colder around him, it seemed, and his attraction to all things L dwindled on obsession. He feared that he may bring about some problems later in life.

But that didn't matter now. The problem at hand was Lawliet… not that he didn't know where he was, but still.

-

"Why, hello, Mr. Christopher," Mr. Altair greeted Lawliet at the door.

"Hello, sir," Lawliet replied. "I woke up this morning and realized it was Saturday, so I thought I might drop by and see if Miss Cosette could use some company in this difficult time." Truthfully, he'd just wanted to get into the house. He'd investigated a few rooms the day before, but now he wanted more information on George, his life, and his habits. Some of these things would probably come just from searching the boy's room.

However, he didn't get three feet in the door before he heard, "What are you doing back here?"

Cosette was standing on the steps, dainty hand on the railing, eyes sharp and accusing, despite the fact that he had done nothing to be accused of.

"I'll leave you two alone," Mr. Altair, an expert at diving out of sticky situations because of his job, made his exit before he got involved in whatever hormone-driven argument may come soon. He apparently failed to see that Lawliet ran almost completely off of cold logic.

Lawliet waited for him to go, then turned back to Cosette. "I came to investigate your brother's room," He explained, as if invading the privacy of a dead man was not at all offensive. To him it wasn't. After all, he wasn't using it anymore.

Cosette took one more step though did not reach the floor at the end of the staircase. "Why?" She asked, furrowing her brow. "What interest is it to you?"

Lawliet then did something that was most likely foolish, and he was sure he would kick himself for it later. "I am L," He told her simply. That kind of trust with a person he hardly knew was probably the stupidest thing he could possibly do. He honestly didn't know why he said it. In fact, it had just slipped out, without his brain processing the words beforehand.

Is this what girls did to men? Well, he certainly didn't like it.

"No, seriously," She said flatly.

Well, he'd already blurted it out. Might as well keep it up.

"Yes, seriously," He responded.

"That is a ridiculous statement! L has been around solving crimes for years! To be L, you would have had to have been a child!"

"Actually, I started out around the same time I met you," Lawliet replied. "Yes, I was a child. Seven years old to be exact."

She stared at him, mouth open as if she were to make a statement, but no words would come out. After a moment, she scoffed, rubbing her sinuses. "I don't have time for this nonsense. You can do whatever you want, but please leave me alone. I have a music lesson." She brushed passed him, not giving him another look.

Lawliet rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet before deciding to investigate. Anything to get his mind off of her for a moment. He might as well be thinking about something mentally stimulating instead of… well, hormonally.

-

George's room was neat and organized like Cosette's but it was far less practical. He saw game stations under the boy's television set and stacks of video tapes and magazines on his bookshelf. The gap between his mattress and the floor revealed video tapes and magazines of a bit more risqué quality. The room smelled of incense, despite the fact that the stuff he kept on his desk hadn't been burned since he'd been gone. Lawliet liked the smell (it smelled of peppermints) and stashed one of his incense sticks in his pocket. The papers on his desk were homework assignments, both completed and in progress. George was obviously a fairly smart boy, a B+ student or so. There were pictures in the desk of him and a group of other boys at parties, drinking their parents' alcohol and listening to their music too loud, as teens often did. He certainly hoped Cosette wasn't the type to follow in her brother's footsteps…

He jeered himself for thinking of such a thing. She was quite obviously not the follower of her brother. She was so stiff and standoffish, it was hard to think that they even lived in the same house, that they were raised by the same parents.

His dresser and closet revealed nothing of interest other than a bunch of name-brand clothes and a marijuana plant that seemed to be dying with lack of care. Maybe pot wasn't entertaining anymore.

_Perhaps, George moved onto bigger drugs_, he mused, storing it in the files in his head.

Coming down the steps into the lobby once again, he was about to slip off into other rooms to investigate when he was distracted by a haunting sound.

**Porgi Amor**

**qualche ristoro**

Lawliet peeked in through the partially opened door to see Cosette standing by the piano with an older man accompanying her. She was singing opera? He'd had no idea she was trained in the field.

**Al mio duolo**

**A'miei sospir!**

That was Mozart's "Porgi Amor." He listened to it on occasion, but he'd never heard it sung live before, and certainly not by her. He feared deeply in his head that perhaps his inexplicable affections towards her may have rewarded him with a sense of bias towards her… but he enjoyed it regardless.

**O mi rendi**

**Il mio tesoro,**

**O mi lascia almen morir!**

The song ended, and Lawliet remembered to breathe again. He could hear the voice teacher critiquing her performance, but he was too busy counting her freckles to pay attention to whatever he was saying. After all, it was probably nonsense, since it was obvious that the performance was perfect.

That damned bias.

He knew he needed to get a lid on his emotions before they wiped out his logic, but it was something he was incredibly new at, and he didn't really know what to do.

Before he figured out the answer, he was grabbed sharply by the ear, catching him off guard and causing him to howl out, arms flailing. He was caught by the wrist and pulled away from the door a ways, kicking and screaming, until he realized that it was Quillsh who had taken hold of him and not some insane stalker killer (not that he had one of those… yet).

"Watari…" Lawliet stammered, blinking his raccoon-like eyes at him.

Well, Quillsh had to admit that he was a little stunned that the boy was… well, stunned. Lawliet was so very seldom caught by surprise, but just now he'd been scrambling around like a lunatic, yelling out like some kind of banshee. It was very un-Lawliet-like.

But it wasn't as if the boy hadn't been full of unexpected things. Up until recently, he'd assumed the boy to be almost completely asexual.

"What did I tell you about going off on your own without telling me first?" Wammy asked sternly.

Lawliet wasn't listening to him, and to be honest, Quillsh couldn't blame him, since after all, Cosette was standing in the doorway and if looks could kill, the boy would be dead.

Lawliet swallowed hard, loud enough for all of them to hear it.

"Please," She said, dangerously quiet. "I am in the middle of a lesson. Do come back another time when my family is not so unavailable." Her glare was full of ice.

"Y-yes," They both said, unable to come up with anything else.

"Have a nice day," She said. Both of them found it hard to believe that she meant it.

-

Lawliet had spent the next few hours in his office, whittling away his time on the computer (he kept it on the floor rather than use the desk- in fact, he didn't really have any furniture, preferring everything to be on the floor).

"How's the research coming?" Quillsh asked when he entered with the boy's snack for the day.

"It isn't," He said darkly, obviously displeased from the events from earlier that day. "It's true that he was participating in some more than questionable activities, but I don't see any potential suspects for killing him."

"Well, that's why they arrested his friends-"

"No, Watari. That's the thing. As far as I'm concerned, all of his friends are innocent. I have found absolutely no suspects whatsoever. I'm thinking that the killer may not have been in direct relation to him, or perhaps the killer is more interested in someone else in the family. I'm guessing that it's his father that they're really after. Perhaps a shady business dealer… however, as far as I know, anyone the man has made business with has an alibi for that night. It's very frustrating."

"And to think I thought you were in here distressed over what happened between you and Miss Cosette earlier."

"I understand she is not fond of me, but she certainly has a lot of nerve to look at me in such a way, considering I'm trying to solve this murder case," He grumbled, dropping his sugar into his coffee. "I doubt that she and I will ever make a connection…" His voice had taken on a subtle sound of disappointment, one that someone who did not know Lawliet as intimately as Wammy did would not notice. "It's not that surprising…" He mumbled. "I don't really make a connection with anyone." He slammed the cup down a bit too hard, and the hot, sugary liquid spilled over the top, splashing his hand. "OW!" He shouted.

Wammy knelt down, drying it off with a handkerchief from his pocket. "It's not so bad," He said.

"It's just a small burn."

"That's not what I was-"

"I know…"

The room was silent for a moment before Lawliet spoke again. "Watari… It… seems that my vast knowledge has a flaw in it. I am having trouble understanding the female brain. I… am also having trouble understanding my own functioning."

To describe emotions as functioning. That was so typical of him. "Well, you know that I'm here to help you if you need it, Lawliet."

"Yes, I know…" He took a long slurp on that disgusting sugary coffee, eyes staring at the screen.

Quillsh sighed, wiping up the mess on the floor. Something told him that the next few weeks were going to be very difficult.

(A/N: Just so you know, the song Cosette is singing is "Porgi Amor" by Mozart, and I don't own it. Also, BB and A will not be big parts to this story. I merely brought them in for an appearance because I like them, but pulling them in will not work with the plotline I have planned. Thank you for reading.)


	3. Untraceable

Three: Untraceable

The next day arrived and with it came Lawliet's decision to keep investigating. Even though he had nothing working for him except his own stubbornness, he got up at dawn and decided to head out to investigate George's most frequented places. He'd even forged school records and a uniform somehow so that he could get into the private academy that George and Cosette studied at.

"You know, Lawliet, I could have actually enrolled you in the school if you would have liked."

"Ridiculous," Lawliet replied, pulling up the tartan pants and buttoning his top before yanking the sweater vest over it. Everything was too big on him, and it, combined with the uncomfortable look on his face, made him look more ridiculous than Wammy's statement.

The old man rolled his eyes. "Just don't go getting yourself into a poker game with an insane killer."

Lawliet gave him a half-glare. "I am far superior to my seven-year-old self, Watari."

_And yet, just as childish_, Wammy thought.

Lawliet turned, as if reading Wammy's thoughts, but didn't say anything about it. "So…" He mumbled, passing him. "I believe this shall suffice. Let us be off."

"Yes, L, sir," Wammy said, rolling his eyes when the boy wasn't looking.

Lawliet glanced back at Wammy when he stepped out of the car. This was far from a place he enjoyed… a place full of people his age? That was insane! Quillsh almost chuckled at the look on the boy's face which had only grown less and less comfortable as they arrived.

"I have set up an alarm system in your car and office. If I am in distress, I can hit this pin-" He pointed to the pin on his vest, "and an alarm will send you to come and fetch me."

Quillsh nodded. "Indeed. Well, I won't be far away then. Be careful."

"Of course," He replied and then proceeded to slip into the crowd of children… mostly. He still stuck out like a sore thumb with that messy hair and hunched back.

Alone now, Lawliet started scanning the other students' faces. Youthful, bright-eyed girls giggling about this and that and whatnot, and young men talking too loudly about unimportant things. Teenagers were so boring.

Despite the fact that research on George's friends had come up empty, when he spotted them in their little clique, he trailed them from just enough distance to not look suspicious. The problem with being incognito at a school however was that even if one looked the part, they didn't necessarily "fit in," and now he was stuck straining to hear what they were saying over the sounds of the other children.

"Um… 'scuse me," A voice.

Lawliet turned, and his creepy appearance actually made the child jump a little. He was younger than him obviously, about twelve, with a head full of blonde ringlets. He was red-faced and blue-eyed and a bit short, but he seemed like a nice kid.

"Um…" The boy seemed to forget what he was going to say.

"Do you require something from me?" Lawliet asked.

"Ah… oh… Oh, yes," The boy stammered, suddenly remembering. "Yes, you're in the way of my entrance. I need to get inside."

Lawliet glanced to his side at the door. "But… this is the side door."

"Ah… yes…"

"Why do you not go in through the front door?" He asked.

"Well… those other guys are over there…" He mumbled, pointing to none other than George's friends.

"And?" Lawliet asked.

"Well… they like to bully me, so I try to stay away from them is all. George was the only one who was nice to me, and now that he's gone, they won't show any restraint."

"You knew George?"

By the time lunch had rolled around, Lawliet had learned the boy's name was Brandon, and that while he had not known George very well, he was aware of the type of people he associated with. The two sat next to each other, both awkward yet somehow working, like two pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit together by the picture but by the shape.

"His friends are real meatheads," Brandon explained, biting down on his sandwich. "They obsess over parties and sports, and they're idolized for doing it too. It's pretty typical. I imagine every school in the world has people like them. George was different though. Yeah, he was a meathead too, but he was nice to me. We hung out on occasion. I'd see him around, you know. When the pressure to maintain my grades got too high, I'd go out and usually find him around town, you know."

Lawliet could tell right away that the boy was avoiding something. He was skipping around _something_, but he knew that to pry would mean to blow his cover.

"He was alone? I mean, most of the time those guys are always together right?" Lawliet asked casually, biting down on a chocolate-covered strawberry he had brought for lunch.

"Well…" He thought about it, choosing his words. "George was kind of their king, I guess you could say, so their little antics failed to impress him sometimes. He'd go out and find more intense… rushes."

"You mean drugs."

Brandon looked at Lawliet, trying to read him but finding the language to be one with which he wasn't familiar. "I don't know."

Of course he knew, but that answer gave him the answer he needed. "Oh, well, all right then. Sorry, it's just that when someone says 'rush' that's what I think of."

"Why?"

"Well, that's what my mother refers to when she takes her pills," Lawliet lied without blinking an eye.

"Oh. Yeah, I know what you mean. Moms can be awful."

"I suppose so."

"By the way, I didn't catch your name. I guess I was so happy that someone was talking to me that I didn't think to ask."

"It's Christopher."

"Oh, well, all right then, Christopher. I don't feel like I've seen you around here before. Are you new or something?"

"Oh, yes. I just started today, but my father's a business mogul, so I don't know how long I'll be here. We move around so much. There have been times that I've been in a school for a single day before moving on to the next one."

"That's terrible! How do they expect you to make any friends that way?"

"Well, if you'll look at me, you'll see I'm not really the friend-making type," Lawliet replied with a shrug. "My uncle says that I'm strange."

"Well, I won't lie, you are a little frightening at first glance, but I think you'd fit in quite well with those children who listen to that dark music."

"I'd rather not spend all my time vomiting poetry," Lawliet replied flatly, leaning his head against the wall. "People who spend their time dwelling on their own problems are just wasting their lives."

"That's so true," Brandon nodded in agreement. "There's so much fun to be had anyways. With rich parents like ours, we have all the free time in the world. My parents don't even notice I've left the house most of the time."

"So you sneak out for fun?" Lawliet questioned, feigning as much innocence as possible.

"No. I sneak out to go to the fun. There are parties all down the circuit. My friends and I generally get together and play D&D, but sometimes we go to the parties. They let anyone in really, as long as you bring something."

"Alcohol?"

"That's what we bring, yes. Some people bring other stuff though. Pot, cocaine, you name it, I've seen it."

"Seems we rich kids have nothing better to do than blow our money," Lawliet smirked a little ruefully.

"Well, it's not _our _money."

"I suppose that's true…"

He spotted Cosette across the schoolyard with her friends and sighed inwardly. Maybe that bias of his had convinced him of her innocence to the party scene. There was a possibility she knew more than she let on. Of course, she wasn't going to tell him now, not after he had revealed himself as L.

That was so stupid.

When the school day had ended, Lawliet slipped away into the crowd. He'd managed to vanish from Brandon's side without too much concern, and while he hadn't learned much… well, surely his information had to equal to something. He just hadn't solved the equation yet.

George was a party boy, and he may or may not have been into some heavier drugs, more likely the former. He was rarely at home because he was partying, and he was also nice to the unpopular kids, despite how his friends enjoyed bullying. So… George didn't seem to be insecure, just longing for the new rush… Then again, Brandon didn't mention any other children. Maybe… just maybe Brandon knew more. Maybe Brandon was involved. It was usually the least suspected one, wasn't it?

He didn't have any evidence, but he'd definitely keep it in mind.

Quillsh was waiting in the car around the corner, and Lawliet crawled in, silently in thought. "Let's go to the house," He said quietly once he'd shut the door.

Quillsh nodded and started the car. "So, have you made any progress, Lawliet?"

"Possibly," He responded.

"So you're not going to tell me?"

Lawliet gave him a sideways glance, looking very much like a raccoon. "I will give you the information once I have processed it. I do not know whether or not what I've learned today will be useful or not… Hum…"

He glanced out the window as Quillsh put the car into drive and spotted George's friends once again. Whispering. One of them passed something discreetly to another. It looked like a scrap of paper and a small bag of some sort of substance. "Wait, Watari," L whispered, rolling down the window as quietly as he could.

"Why are you giving me this?" The boy complained loudly.

"Look, after what happened, I just… I don't want it anymore. You know where we'll be hanging out tonight," He looked at the piece of paper he'd given to the other boy. "You gonna meet us there?"

"Yeah, fine," The other boy grumbled, hiding both things away in his left pocket. "You gonna bring some good stuff?"

"As long as it's not that stuff, I'll hook you up."

"Cool. See you then."

They parted ways, and by sheer luck, the one with the address walked by Lawliet's car. Lawliet's quick hands slipped in and out of his pocket without notice.

"Drive," He hissed, rolling up the window.

Quillsh, despite Lawliet's harsh command, didn't floor the gas, instead choosing to drive out slowly so they wouldn't be noticed.

"So, what's the address?"

"Oh… it's that big mansion across town," Lawliet grumbled. "That old one that was abandoned several years ago, the one by the forest. Rich teenagers feel the need to party in mansions even now, I suppose."

"Will you be attending?"

"It depends," Lawliet replied, holding up the bag of powder. It sparkled a bit in the sunlight. "I need to find out what this is first. I have a feeling the contents of this bag might have been a good friend to George… a better friend than his real friends, surely. It's odd though… I don't recognize this stuff. We've dealt in cases with drugs before, but this certainly doesn't look like meth or heroin or cocaine… I… don't know what it is. I'll need to identify it. Good thing we built that chemistry lab back at Wammy House."

"I suppose so. Just don't go tasting it."

"I would never do something so foolish."

Lawliet was in the lab for a good hour and a half before Quillsh decided to try bothering him. Just as he went to open the door, it opened on it's own and out stepped Lawliet, shaking his head and yet looking somehow a bit excited.

"Very puzzling… but this would explain a few things… Hmm…"

"What's going on, L, sir? Did you identify the toxin?"

He glanced back at him, thumb on his lips. "No."

"You don't seem to distraught over it."

His lips spread into a grin. "I didn't identify it because it's unidentifiable."

"What?"

"I've never seen it before because it's a new type of drug. One that even the government probably doesn't even know about. In fact, I'm 92% sure the government in any country doesn't know."

Quillsh was stunned. "Then perhaps Mr. George was part of a ring of drug peddlers. Maybe he and his friends were making the drug. One of them felt they'd gotten in too deep and decided to destroy the evidence, aka Mr. George Altair."

"It's a good theory, Watari," Lawliet nodded, "however, I doubt that's what happened. His friends' mental strength is about as strong as their moral strength. If one of them had killed George, he would have confessed, or at least there would have started to crack up. I believe George was a user, but not a seller. He probably gave this bag to his friend for safe keeping."

"But Lawliet, it said in the autopsy report that there were no drugs found in his system."

"I checked that as well," Lawliet's face lit up, and it was almost a little creepy. "It doesn't show up on any tox-screens, any drug tests, not even in the blood. It's unidentifiable, and on top of that untraceable. While I don't think the drugs caused his death, the stabbing he received did that, perhaps they have something to do with it?"

"I wouldn't know, sir."

Lawliet paused, thinking. "I need to find out the drug's effects. Shall we take a ride to the prison and see if any of our local death row inmates would be willing to test it for us?"

"I don't know if they'd let you…"

"Oh, yes they will," Lawliet shoved his hands in his pockets. "I am L, after all. It's at the point where the police force comply with whatever I request now, considering I've solved some of their most mysterious cases. I'll have them film it, and you'll watch it live from here and keep me up to date on what's happening. I, in the meantime, will slip off to the party and do a little more investigating. I'll see if there are any other people using it, see if I can find a maker, those sorts of things. I don't know why, but I have a hunch, Watari. Quote me on this when the case is solved. The one who killed George Altair is the one who makes the drug."

"I'll… keep that in mind, sir."

Watari didn't like this plan. There was a lot of danger, a lot of risks… Lawliet would be clear across town from him should something happen. He'd have no one to come and fetch him should trouble arise… but the boy didn't know how to take no for an answer, and after all of Lawliet's success in his plans, Quillsh had reason to believe he'd be okay.

Lawliet handed Quillsh the bag. "Call up the station the way we always do. Disguise your voice. I'm going to go about disguising the rest of me. Also, I'll need your keys."

"You're not old enough to drive."

"I'm also not old enough to tell the police how to do their job, but I have. Bad children don't get rides from their parents to parties like the one I'll be attending. If you're uncomfortable with me using your car, I can always buy one for myself."

"Then do that," Quillsh said flatly, though in his head he was relieved that he'd have a getaway car. "I've seen what unfortunate luck comes from vehicles that you use in some of our previous cases, and I won't have my car getting destroyed in the name of L."

"I'm assuming you won't be leaving it to me in your will then," Lawliet chuckled, it always being a strange sound for him.

"Definitely not."

(A/N: Had four pages of this sitting in my hard drive for awhile but no inspiration to work on it led me to forgetting about it. Decided to try and get back in the game by finishing this chapter, and while it's a little short, I'm glad to be able to update. As always, thanks for reading.)


	4. Lost

Four: Lost

Quillsh had driven Lawliet to pick up a car he'd already picked out from in the paper. He'd expected it to be nice, considering the price, albeit a vague number, Lawliet had told him… He'd never expected a 1961 Ferrari 250 GT SWB California Spyer in black.

"Even with your bank account, there's no way you can afford this," Quillsh whispered to him.

"I'm not buying it, Watari. I'm just renting it."

"Can I help you boys today?" The owner of the car exited his house, another posh mansion similar to Cosette's, if not a bit more modern.

"Saw your ad in the paper. Lending out your car for 10,000."

"A night," The man replied with a grin. "It was my brother's idea. He said guys would pay good money to be seen in a good looking car, but not all guys can afford to buy one."

"You don't seem to be hurting for money," Quillsh said quietly, looking at the house rather than the red-headed gentlemen who probably needed the car to get a lady's attention.

Lawliet laughed at this. Creepy and uncomfortable as it was, it was only made more so by the fact that no one had said anything to warrant such a sound. Lawliet glanced at the man. "You're in debt up to your eyeballs, aren't you?"

The man's face reddened substantially. The car probably had a lot to do with it.

"In the future, you'll want to come down off of your price if you expect anyone to rent your car. I'm also assuming of course, that you have a tracking device inside of it, so that no one could take it and never come back, correct?"

"Of course. That car is my life," The man chuckled a bit.

"How sad for you," Lawliet replied flatly, back to his stoic, weird self. Quillsh covered a chuckle with a cough. The man's face reddened more.

"Well, all right then," Lawliet shrugged after walking around the car a few times. "I'll rent it from you. No problem. I'll pay you an extra 2,000, as long as you don't ask any questions and forget that you saw us. Also, I'll return it to you the next morning in the same condition I'm taking it in."

The man stared at the two of them, turning his eyes back and forth from one to the other. He wanted to ask what exactly it was being used for, but questions would nullify his 2,000.

"Well… I'll need to see your driver's license."

Lawliet dug a fake license out of his pocket and handed it to him. "I assure you that I'm nearly eighteen. I'm just short because I'm part Japanese."

Lawliet's forgeries were perfection, so there was no way for the man to question otherwise, and since Lawliet paid cash up front, there was nothing he could do. Quillsh took him for a gambling man, though he didn't seem nearly as lucky as a certain Poker Alice the two of them had encountered before. Lawliet knew where to find what he needed, that was for sure.

"I'll see you back at home," He said to Quillsh, hopping into the car. Quillsh couldn't help but notice his eyes light up just a bit when he turned on the engine. Wammy wasn't normally an avid fan of cars, but the purr of the engine did sound very nice. He would have liked to have a car like that one day.

"Bye!" Lawliet waved, putting the car into gear and tearing out of the driveway. The man was horrified at the speed he'd taken off at, but there was nothing that could be done now that he was gone.

"Well…" Quillsh straightened his jacket, nodded to the man, and turned away. "Have a nice day."

By the time Lawliet arrived at the party, the sun had gone down. The old mansion was lit up gloriously with hanging lanterns. Extension cords hung over the stone walls surrounding the place, and noise erupted loudly from within. There were so many cars that Lawliet had trouble finding a place to put his car. He settled with placing it underneath a canopy of tree branches, hidden from view in the darkness but still close enough t hat he could make a quick getaway if necessary.

As he got out, he found himself cringing. The black leather boots he'd purchased were horribly uncomfortable. He'd chosen to wear all black so that he might be considered one of the children that Brandon had mentioned earlier in the day as the type of people he appeared to associate with. It was odd how the woman in the store had actually found his hair more appealing when it was even messier than usual, and he was disgusted with the amount of product she'd put in it. The fact that people spent that much money for clothing and hairstyles and cool cars and jewelry and so many pointless things… it was all around sickening. He gritted his teeth and decided to bare it, since he'd already come so far. The glory of solving the case would be satisfying enough to wipe away the nasty feeling all over his body.

The music was far too loud and definitely not the kind of music Lawliet would listen to. It was synthesized and high-pitched and stupid… much like the party guests seemed to be. The teen who was "guarding" the gate to make sure only the in crowd got inside was already passed out from… something. Lawliet did make sure to nonchalantly check his pulse before slipping inside. He'd be fine… most likely.

People were everywhere. It was so crowded that Lawliet had to squeeze his way between them as he tried to act natural. His mind was screaming in horror at the amount of body contact he was forced to endure as he moved, and he was sure that his eyes were darting around as though someone had fired a gun. No one gave him a second glance, assuming that he must have been tripping on something. He was hoping to find fellow 'trippers' in the hopes of discovering more clues for his case.

Once out of the yard and inside the house, the music was, for the moment, a dull roar, and there weren't nearly as many people. He was sure he'd hit the jackpot when he'd stepped inside and found a very unfortunate individual snorting cocaine off of one of the stairs. Just as he was about to start investigating, he was grabbed by the wrist. Turning, he discovered Brandon, already very drunk and more holding onto him to stay standing than to make his presence known.

"Christopher!" He slurred jovially. "Welcome to… Hi there!"

Lawliet stared at him blankly. "Yes, hello."

There was a bit of small talk between them, mostly from Brandon. Lawliet couldn't understand much of what he was saying so he just nodded and smiled mostly, and it worked effectively until he had apparently agreed to let Brandon drag him off somewhere in the opposite direction of his investigation… back outside.

The discomfort he'd felt before was even worse when Brandon had hold of his wrist, dragging him along. He couldn't turn the way he wanted or really do anything. Not being in control was his absolute worst feeling.

"Here, Chris, h-here," Brandon laughed, handing him a cup of beer. "Down the hatch," He told him and then drank out of his own glass.

Lawliet tried to force a smile, but only the left corner of his mouth ticked. There were people dancing everywhere, now to the music of a very amateur band up on the makeshift stage. One girl bumped into Lawliet, causing him to spill half of his drink on himself.

_It's all right… It'll just make this damned shirt easier to burn later…_ He thought, grimacing.

Brandon collapsed before his eyes at that moment, flopping right into one of the fold out chairs. "I miss George, man… He was… was… so… great, man… Just the best…"

"Really…" Lawliet hunched next to his chair, biting down on his thumb. "What made him so great?"

"He just…" He explained, staring glassy eyed off into the distance. "He was just… so fun, you know? Like a kid… and so brave."

Lawliet's gazed flattened when he realized what a waste of time it was to talk to him. "I'm uh…" He poured out his drink behind him. "I'm going to get another beer."

"Okay…" Brandon mumbled, barely conscious.

Just when Lawliet thought he was in the clear, once again, he found himself being touched, this time on the shoulder. A girl in all black and tall boots stood before him, face mercilessly slathered with black eye shadow and red lipstick. Her dyed black hair was pulled back tight on her head, hanging in a rather lifeless ponytail. Her clothing gave away how adult she was trying to be and how bad she was at doing it. He would have placed her age at thirteen, no higher.

"Hey, you're pretty handsome, you know? You should be dancing with someone," She said, and her voice sounded like a bad impersonation of an adult. He would have felt more flattered that she'd complimented his looks if, first of all, looks mattered so little to him, second, he didn't feel like a fool, and third, she wasn't as plastered as she was.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in dancing. Two left feet, you know," He responded, but she didn't let go of him as he tried to turn away.

"Oh, come on. One dance won't kill you. Please? No one else will dance with me!" She whined, tugging on his sleeve with her black-nailed fingers.

"That doesn't really sound like my problem."

"My ex-boyfriend is here. I want to make him jealous. Won't you please just dance with me, just for one song?"

"Leave me alone!" He complained, pulling his arm out of her reach.

And then she started bawling as though her puppy had died. Suddenly, all eyes were upon him and the girl, and he was terrified that his cover may end up blown with people actually paying attention to him now. He sighed inwardly and grabbed the girl harshly and started awkwardly dancing with her. The crowd seemed to forget about him almost instantly.

"So, I haven't seen you around here before, honey. You new? I'm Morgan by the way."

"Ah… just passing through really. My father, you know… and ah… I'm Christopher. Say, Morgan, you wouldn't happen to know who I need to go to… so that I can um… score something…?" He had no idea how he was supposed to behave or speak. If the party hadn't been so soon, he would have had more time to do a little research on teenage slang and mannerisms. All that time he'd been forced to spend buying clothes could have been used for much more useful information.

"You mean pot?" She questioned, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He noted how her eyes were such an ugly, murky brown.

"I… think I'd like to find something a little more… stimulating," He responded, choosing his words as carefully as possible. He was fortunate to speak to her, since she obviously wasn't too familiar with how she was supposed to act with the party-goers either.

"Oh… well, there's lots of stuff being passed around. The second floor's got pretty much everything being handed out, and there are some guys in the attic who sit around and smoke crack… and I've never seen them, but there's apparently this one guy who lives in the woods who has this crazy shit."

_Now we're in business!_ He thought eyes lighting up. "Crazy shit?"

"Yeah, some kids have gotten pretty wasted on it or something. There was this one guy, Brandon, who got so high on the stuff that he disappeared for four days. His parents assumed he ran away and figured he'd come back when he got hungry, at least, that's what I was told. He's back at school now, so I guess he's okay."

He was pretty sure the Brandon she spoke of, and the one he had been conversing with earlier that day were one and the same. He wouldn't be much to talk to, not now, if he was even conscious… However, it did prove his earlier theory that Brandon was keeping secrets… and with Brandon's loyalty to George, it was very possible that George and he were into the same narcotics.

As the song ended, Morgan laced her arms around his neck and leaned against his chest. "Surely you wanna dance another song, right?"

"Not a chance," Lawliet removed her arms from his neck slowly and stepped away. "Go dance with your ex-boyfriend. I have to go pick something up."

And he left her alone on the dance floor…

Quillsh had hidden his identity behind a hat, a mask, and a trench coat. Lawliet had installed a voice changer into the mask for him so that he could act as L's messenger without being in true danger.

He wasn't sure how he felt about using the mystery drug on another person, whether they were on death row or not. The police officers didn't seem to feel too comfortable about it either, but they respected L's reputation, money, and cooperation far too much to question him.

The inmate was a gruff gentleman, a few years younger than Wammy himself. Lawliet had had the police cut a deal with him: test the drug, and you'll be taken off of death row. There were many takers, but one guard decided on the older man, since he didn't have too many years left to live anyway.

"So…" The man said from behind glass as they set him at a table. Wammy was watching, along with two guards and the warden. They all exchanged awkward glances. "So, all I have to do is test this, and… and I'll go free…"

"That's all you have to do," The warden said into the microphone.

"No… no tricks, right? I mean, this won't kill me, will it?"

They all glanced at each other again and unanimously decided not to answer.

The man cracked his knuckles nervously and stared down at the line prepared for him. The odds were, for him, 50/50 should he live or die from the drug. The odds of him dying tomorrow if he didn't test it were 100%. It didn't take him too long to decide what option was the better one, and he snorted the line.

For a short time that seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. No one spoke or moved.

And then…

The man behind glass laughed. It was small at first, a giggle, but it quickly built up into uproarious laughter. He was on his feet, climbing on the table, falling off, laughing, waving his arms… It was disturbingly odd until Quillsh, being experienced in noticing this type of behavior back at the orphanage said, "He's… playing. He's playing as if he were a child."

The man ran to the glass, made faces at them, asked if anyone wanted to play with him. Quillsh made note of the brightness in his eyes, eerie, almost as though they were glowing.

"Where are you?" The warden asked into the microphone, as Quillsh had instructed before the test had begun. "Can you describe it to us?"

The man sat Indian-style on the table, grinning. "It's really pretty."

"Is it? It's not bare walls and glass?"

"Huh? Oh… no, no… I can't really tell. There are fairies everywhere!"

"Fairies?" They all exchanged glances.

"Yes, fairies! Red ones, yellow ones, green ones, blue ones! They're really pretty. Oh… oh, their clearing away… Yes, it is a room with glass and walls… but everything's so pretty… It's like everything's covered with glitter. I like it a lot. I can play in here. I just wish I had someone to play with."

"He's barking mad…" One of the guards said, stunned.

"He's just high," the other guard said. "What the hell did that stuff do?"

Quillsh said nothing. _It seems to be some sort of hallucinogen. Once it activates, the user becomes childlike and bombarded with illusions. It brings the user astounding joy, and they seem to forget what has become of them… almost like their real selves have been… lost…_

Evening ended. Time rolled by… Two o'clock, three, four… At five-thirty-two, Lawliet finally returned, smelling greatly of beer, marijuana, and body odor.

"Lawliet," Quillsh couldn't help but call him by name as he got out of his chair and made his way over to the boy. "Are you all right?"

Lawliet was already stripping of his clothing, even while standing in the room. It appeared that he'd abandoned the shoes he'd been wearing on the way home. "Get me something to wear," He mumbled.

Quillsh vanished to Lawliet's bedroom to retrieve some clothing, and by the time he'd returned, he found him in a bath, scrubbing himself down quite heavily. "What did you find out?" He asked, voice still somewhat distant as he tried to rid himself of the body contact he'd been forced to endure.

"I have a page of notes for you, sitting on your bed, L, sir," Wammy responded.

"Good," He replied.

"What did you find out?"

"George has been getting his stash from some mysterious person who deals out of the woods, apparently. This drug has allowed people to disappear for days."

"Is that all?"

"It really doesn't seem like a lot, does it…" Lawliet murmured, and Quillsh realized that he must have been disappointed in himself. "There was one thing, after I went back in the house though…"

"Really?"

"Yes… I saw a boy staring at me through the window. His hair was wild, but I couldn't see what he was wearing. He was probably around George's age, maybe a year older, but it was so dim… I had a feeling, so I gave chase, but he laughed at me and ran away. My boots got stuck in the mud, and I had to return without them. The boy climbed and swung from the trees."

"Bizarre…"

"He may have just been tripping… he wasn't much different from the other animals I'd come across…" He shivered and started scrubbing again. "But…"

"You had a feeling."

"Yes."

"So, we have a mysterious wonder drug, and a boy who thinks he's Tarzan, swinging from the trees, and a dead teenager. What's the connection?"

"I don't know, and I'm beginning not to care," Lawliet groaned before taking a deep breath and diving under his bath water to wash the suds from his hair.

"Miss Cosette would certainly care, don't you think?"

Lawliet hung his arms over the side of the tub. "Not particularly. She didn't seem to interested in him. I believe Miss Cosette's only true family is the one that she's lost."

"Surely though, she'd be impressed were you able to figure it out, right?"

"Probably not."

Quillsh didn't like this. He'd already been working on this case so hard… He didn't want to give up on it now. He felt like they were really onto something… and with all the money Lawliet had already spent, it felt stupid to just turn back on it now.

"Say, Lawliet… this wild boy you saw… You don't think he could be the mysterious dealer from the woods, do you?"

"Oh, most definitely."

"So, why was he looking at you?"

"I don't know, maybe he saw me before at the school."

"Or at Miss Cosette's house, perhaps? You don't think that she's in danger, do you?"

"Her father is the one with the money… Maybe he's running the whole thing," Lawliet said, sounding bored. "Maybe he's manufacturing the drug… or… something…" His eyes lit up just a bit at the prospect.

"Well, why would George have been killed?"

"Bad deal, perhaps?" Lawliet offered. "Maybe George was a warning."

"Maybe."

"I'll need to figure out his business exploits. The problem is that none of this would be in any books, on any computers, probably not even written down. The only thing I can think to do is find out by word of mouth. If I could get someone to tell me what he may have been doing, then maybe…"

"Might I suggest… Miss Cosette?"

"I don't know if I could get her to talk to me…"

"Well, as far as I know, the Altairs are having a business gala for all of their closest friends at the end of the month. Perhaps there, you could speak with her, or one of his associates."

"I'm not one of his associates. There's no way I could get inside."

"Actually, he's invited close friends as well, including me."

Lawliet stared at him for a long time, raccoon eyes wide. "Why… didn't you tell me this before now?"

"I only just received the invitation today… well, technically yesterday."

"I don't know if I can handle another party, Watari."

Quillsh pulled a towel off of the rack and summoned Lawliet to leave the bath before he rubbed himself raw with the soap. "This isn't the same kind of party… and besides, I would need someone to go with. Also, even if you don't find anything, you may still get to see Cosette all dolled up. Maybe she'll even sing."

Lawliet, wrapped up in the oversized towel, blushed a bit. "Perhaps so."


End file.
